Dear Diary
by Pipermint
Summary: Dear Diary... death awaits the oblivious...
1. When In London

January 1st, 2004  
  
Dear diary,  
  
Today while my sisters were out with Wyatt, I went demon hunting by myself. I cornered this one weakling, binded his powers with a spell I created, and orbed him to the tower of London. Gotta love time zones. Since we're 5 hours behind, it was closed, so it was there, free for me to use as I pleased.  
  
The chains were rusted from the medieval times, blood stains were all over the walls and I swear I heard voices of people being tortured. Not that I minded, I mean I was about to do the same myself. This poor cat was struggling to get away from me, too bad I had him tied up since he passed out when I binded his powers.   
  
My favorite device was there. The rack. I tied the poor bastard to it, a billion thoughts were running through my mind, I needed to see him suffer. He had already killed…Actually I don't know if he had killed or not. Oh well! What do I care? You know?   
  
So there he was, with his limbs stretched out, his stomach exposed and the most frightened look upon his face. He was not yet begging that I have mercy on him, but I knew he would soon. They all do. I was also silent during the whole time. Why waste my speech when the silence was as frightening as my words would be?  
  
I slowly started to spin the wheel, each millimeter giving him the sensation that his limbs were being torn from his body, literally. He no longer could keep silent, he yelled for help, the pain getting more and more excruciating. Well, I wasn't gonna let him die that easily, was I? Just as his spine was about to break, I stopped the wheel. He begged for mercy. I smirked at him, and said that mercy were only for the ones with a heart. I pulled out my dagger and slowly cut his chest open, I was amazed that he was still conscious after all the pain, he watched me insert my hand in his chest and hold his heart, he looked at me and then I squeezed his heart. I watched as his eye vessels filled with blood, his heart still trying to beat in my hand, sheesh, he was a strong one. Really wanted to live. Eventually he gave in, and died. Heh, left his body where his buddies could find it, as a warning that they're next.  
  
Well my sisters are here, it looks like they're gonna be around the whole day tomorrow. I guess it's time to go "look for a job", and come home with nothing, because "oh they already found someone else for that job. I'll look again tomorrow."  
  
Goodnight. 


	2. Punishment

March 23rd, 2004

Dear Diary,

It's been a while. I couldn't find anyone to hurt, so hurt myself instead. I was sick of feeling so useless anyway, always making mistake and always being the one who never seems to learn. I took my dagger, hesitantly, I touched the blade to my leg and slowly began to slice up my thigh, watching every second of it, feeling the pain that shot through my skin as the blood started to ooze out my new fresh wound. I couldn't stop there, as I thought more and more how I hurt everyone I love, I started to take it out on myself even more, punishing myself for being so ignorant and not thinking before acting.

I took off my shirt, still watching as the vertical wound on my leg bled freely, I brought the dagger up to my left breast. The skin so pale and tender was also much more sensitive than I thought it would be, or perhaps the dagger was too sharp. In the outer state of mind I was, I carelessly pressed the sharp blade against my breast, blood immediately started to trail down, stopping at my nipple before dripping and running down the rest of my torso. This pain was such a relief from all of what I had done, this self punishment, it was what I needed to free my mind from all I had to do, and also a way to take out my anger, the anger I had brought upon myself. My sisters who so caring adopted me back into the family, were now hurt, and it was all my fault, it was my who didn't think twice before telling them terrible things, things that I could've stopped, things that could've been prevented had I stopped to think that I would be hurting them much more than I actually thought I would.

I'm stupid.

I wish I had died.

Leo didn't come to heal me, and I was glad, perhaps since I was in such a state of mind he couldn't sense my trouble.

Even then I didn't stop. The pain wasn't enough, I needed more.

So I took my lighter, and heated up the same blade I had cut myself with, I watched as the blood boiled on it, slowly changing colors and becoming black as it dried. My leg and my right breast continue to bleed and ache while I prepared my next punishment.

Without a second though I brought the hot blade into the cut on my breast. The pain was higher than anything I had ever felt. The mix of burning and aggravating my cut even more made me lose my mind as I started to lose more blood than I had already lost.

I thought about cutting my wrists, but I didn't want to end yet, and had I tried to kill myself, I'm sure that good for nothing nosy white lighter would've come in and healed me.

I soon stopped once I could no longer feel how hot the blade was. Bleeding uncontrollably I sat there, watching as the blood that dripped off my nipple coagulated on my leg.

I heard the downstairs door open and snapped out of that trance, ran to the bathroom and put and ending to the bleeding. Quickly put a bandage over it all and got dressed again before cleaning the blade and orbing my dirty sheets to a dumpster.

As soon as I opened the door, Piper looked at me "Are you okay Paige?" "Fine Piper" I smiled at her and started to climb the stairs.

"Where were you?" She asked somewhat concerned.

"Oh just out for a walk" I replied as cheerily as always

"Okay, dinner will be ready soon, I'll call you" she told me and walked back into the kitchen.

Sometimes it's hard to lie so freely to my sisters, but what they don't know won't hurt them, and who cares if it hurts me.


	3. First Time

Dear diary,

Today I was sitting at my window, looking at my old scars and I came upon a really old one, probably one of the first ones.  
I remember like it was just yesterday night. It was during my angsty teen years, I was such a rebel back then (such crap style too, but that's the 70's for you). Anyways I remember that I was angry with my parents, I always was back in those days. I didn't know where I belonged, I wanted to know why my real parents had abandoned me, why was I such a worthless baby that they had to dump me. Why didn't they keep me? Why was I always such a fuck up in every way?

Come to think of it now, I still ask myself those same questions. Why is that I'm always the one who's wrong and the last one to be heard?

That day, I had been sitting by my window looking outside at all the stupid happy children, with their idiotic perfect families, I was blaming myself for having my mother give me away. After all maybe she knew I'd grow up to be such a disaster. Why would anybody care for me? I didn't deserve to have anyone who cared. I was hurting people, because they cared about me. I was so angry with myself, I just wanted to be the one who suffered. I sat there listening to my punk rock, smoking my cheap cigarettes by the window becoming more and more enraged with myself. I looked at my hands, and inside I just kept getting worse.

I never do anything right, I never get the grades. I fail at everything. You're stupid Paige. You'll never be good enough for anyone. You're always hurting people. You don't deserve to be cared about.

That's when I first did it, I turned my cigarette to my hand, and put it out in it. Right in the center of my hand. My brain was telling me to stop, but I kept going, I needed that pain, I need to punish myself for hurting others. I was fighting with myself, my whole body was telling me no, but I deserved it. I always did.

I could feel my flesh burning under the lit cigarette, the ashes marking my sin. I wanted to yell, I wanted to do something to escape that pain... but did I really? Once it was out, I brushed away the ashes to see my burnt skin. It wasn't anything big, just a small circle of burnt flesh on the palm of my hand. It hurt so much, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

A friend of mine once gave me a small pendant with my name on it that I used to wear all the time, I broke my necklace and pulled off the pendant. It wasn't sharp enough to do any damage if I just wanted to cut myself. But my sensitive skin in the palm of my hand was a different story. In my anger I rubbed the smooth, thin edge of my pendant on the frail skin, skinning my palm. I looked at it for a few second, observing the water that my body was trying to put out my pain with, I laughed at myself. My own body telling me no, but my mind telling me I had to. The open wound stinged to no end, but the pain wouldn't suffice, I needed more. I tore the skin away, opening the wound further. I started slashing sideways, my blood started to pool up on top. Now I was alive. I continued to make it deeper and deeper, getting more and more blood out of there. Eventually the pain became nothing, but I had an insatiable thirst to get more. Unfortunately the pendant wouldn't do the job and I had nothing else. I sat there staring at my hand, feeling the pain throbbing in my hand. I closed my nails on it, when I opened my hand my blood was freely flowing all of my hand. I deserved worse, but this would have to do for now.

After a while, the feeling that I need more hurt was gone.

For a while I'd walk with my hand open, feeling the air hit my skin. It was a constant reminder of my errors, what a damn worthless rat I was. Anything that came in contact with it, would hurt me for seconds longer than a normal wound. I was glad.

Ah the first time. We never really forget it, huh?

Kids just do the darnest things. 


End file.
